


Snowstorm

by hypatheticallyspeaking



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bellarke, F/M, Fluff, not even that shippy?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-08 12:56:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3209978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypatheticallyspeaking/pseuds/hypatheticallyspeaking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’ve been waiting at this bus station for what seems like an hour and the bus isn’t coming, is it?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snowstorm

Snow swirled around, a white blanket of pure cold, and the wind howled, knocking a snow drift off of a tree branch. The cascade of snow landed on top of the bus stop, but not before splitting into diamond dust. The crystalline powder drifted into the face of the stop’s lone occupant. She sneezed, pulling her scarf around her neck and rubbing her thin-gloved hands together. She shifted the sleeve of her jacket up to glance at the old watch on her wrist.  
The bus should have been here by now.   
Clarke shivered. The snow was the highest she’d ever seen—although she was a senior, the past few years had seen relatively little snowfall and she had grown up in Georgia. The blonde waited another thirty seconds before releasing a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Why did her on-campus apartment have to be at least half an hour away by foot? Another gust of wind passed through the open bus stop, sneaking through her many layers of clothes and chilling her to the bone.   
She glanced around—it was the end of winter break, and most people were either still at home or out at parties. A single house had its lights on, and Clarke began walking towards it. Salvation, her mind cried out as she trudged through the feet of snow to what would—hopefully—be a warm place to stay until the buses started running again… if they were even running at all.   
Clarke knocked on the door with shaking hands, although this time her hands didn’t quiver from the cold. With any luck, it would be someone she’s seen on campus before—Miller was a TA who lived on campus, as were Roma and Atom. It was Harper’s house and she was back from her party. The roads were easily covered in two feet of snow, she realized, glancing back to the road. The trail where her footsteps were had already begun to fill in.   
“What do you wa—Clarke?”   
She knew that voice, and as she looked back into his face, she sighed. It was a mix of relief and dread when she spoke, “Bellamy.”   
“What are you doing here, princess?”   
“Th-the bus isn’t working today, i-is it?” She couldn’t stop her teeth from chattering.   
His eyes widened, a look of realization crossing his face. He stepped to the side, gesturing for Clarke to step inside. “You are an idiot. And you’re lucky I’m even still around. Campus is practically closed down.”   
“Then why are you here, oh-asinine-TA?” She and Bellamy had always had a strained relationship—they got off on the wrong foot when she was in middle school and their relationship had more-or-less remained the same.   
He shut the door behind him, sealing in the warm air and the smell of books. She took off her wet boots and socks before he led her to the main room of his apartment. “I got here before they shut down the roads.” He indicated her jacket with a tilt of her head. “Take it off.”   
“What?”   
He smirked. “Your jacket, princess. You’re going to catch a cold.”   
“Right.” She shrugged out of her soaked jacket and unwound her scarf. “Sorry that I just barged in. I didn’t even know this was your apartment.”   
“What, Raven and O didn’t tell you?”   
“It’s not like I asked. We’re not exactly friends,” Clarke retorted. Somehow, the words felt like acid. “Even if I do room with your sister—shit.”   
Bellamy sat down on the couch, leaning back lazily as she furiously typed out a text to Octavia outlining the fact that she was not dead and had found a place to crash until the snow cleared a bit. “Where is she, by the way?”   
“Um, nowhere,” Her reply was hastier than it should have been.   
“Where is my sister?”   
She muttered the truth quietly. There was no way she was going to let him go ballistic. No sir—she was only beginning to get feeling back in her fingers.   
“Clarke…” And there was the overprotective brother that she knew so well. The scowl on his face—right where it normally was—and the fire burning in his eyes. His arms crossed over his chest, proof that he knew what Clarke would say even before she said it.   
“She’s with Lincoln.”   
Bellamy clenched his hands, and she would swear to the ends of the earth that he was debating kicking her out of the apartment for not informing him beforehand. But why would she? It’s not like they’re attached at the hip.   
“Of course,” he growled out, “I ha-”   
“You hate Lincoln,” Clarke cut off, waving a hand dismissively. “I only hear you say that every single time he and O are in the same room. But she’s twenty-four, Bell.”   
Had it really been ten years that they’d known each other? And where did that nickname come from?   
“I know. I still don’t like him.”   
Clarke rolled her eyes. “You’ll keep saying that until they’re married.”   
“They are not going to get married.”   
“You’re right,” she agreed as she took a seat on the hammock in the corner of the room—seriously, who has a hammock in their living room?   
“Of course I am.”   
A wide smirk crossed Clarke’s features. “They’d elope rather than deal with you being all overprotective. At least you wouldn’t have a choice but to accept it then.”   
“Shut up.”   
“Hey,” Clarke teased with a shrug, “At least she has someone, Mr. I’m-too-busy-for-an-actual-rela— ” she began coughing, and Bellamy stood up silently. Clarke’s coughs continued for a while, and when the hacking finally ceased, the boy—technically man—was no longer in the room.   
He returned a few seconds later with a glass of water.   
She snatched it from his hands and downed the entire glass.   
“You’re welcome,” Bellamy said in the condescending tone of voice that he only ever used with Clarke.   
“Thanks.” She stared down at the empty glass, but she could feel the smug look on his face. Why did he have to be such an ass to her about some things (school, Octavia, Finn, her family) and then suddenly turn around and do nice stuff? Bellamy Blake didn’t do nice. Well, at least he didn’t when she was in middle school and he was graduating high school. He took off a few years to take care of Octavia after their mom passed away, and that’s when he was the worst. But the past few years—not that she’d ever admit it—he was actually trying to not be an ass… on occasion.   
“What were you doing outside anyway?” His question brought her out of her musings.   
“The professor I passed in the hallway said that there were still supposed to be buses.”   
“It was Shumway, wasn’t it?”   
“Why…?”   
“He hates everyone,” Bellamy replied, with a shrug.   
“Or it was just a mistake,” Clarke reasoned. She attempted to tuck her legs underneath her, but the hammock was not designed for her to shift so much.   
“You’re going to-” he began flatly, not even attempting to move from his seat. There was a large thump followed by an exclamation of pain. “-fall.”   
The winds began to pick up, howling and battering against the windows. Clarke squinted at the quickly fading lights outside from her heap on the floor. The swirls of snow created a blanket that she couldn’t see through.   
“Looks like I might be here longer than expected.”   
“The storm’ll last until tomorrow at least. I’ll get some blankets I guess. You can crash on my bed.”   
“No.”   
“No?”   
“I already showed up here uninvited. I’m not kicking you out of your own room.”   
“Fine,” Bellamy responded, but Clarke had a feeling she’d end up sleeping there anyway. She watched his face. God, how she wanted to draw him. Even though she was an art history minor, she still had to do studies for one of her classes. A study of Bellamy Blake sounded wonderful—she shook the thoughts from her head almost immediately.   
He wasn’t attractive, and he was a jerk.   
If she kept repeating it, maybe she’d believe what her teenage self had decided years ago.   
**   
Clarke stirred, curled beneath bundle of blankets. It was warm. So warm. But there was light, meaning it was time to drag her tired self out of bed. She reached for her phone, only for her hand to hit another person. Her eyes opened abruptly and she flinched.   
“What the hell?”   
It took her a few seconds to remember where she was, and just who she had fallen asleep next to. “Good morning to you too, Bellamy,” Clarke mumbled, her thoughts still hazy.   
“Oh, it’s just you.” Tension released from his shoulders.   
“This is your fault for marathoning Star Wars!”   
“Not like we can ever decide on anything,” he replied, sitting up. A bowl of popcorn toppled to the floor, scattering the remaining crumbs on the floor. “Besides,” Bellamy smirked, “You enjoyed it.”   
“I did not!” Clarke defended.   
“Right, princess.”   
“At least I wasn’t quoting lines the whole time!”   
“It’s got some iconic lines.”   
“You quoted the first four movies word-for-word,” Clarke pointed out.   
“And you were smiling the whole time.”   
“Shut up.”   
Hey, at least she didn’t deny it. As she buried herself under more blankets, this time moving slightly closer to Bellamy, she couldn’t help grinning just as much as she had before. Maybe the snowstorm was actually a good thing.


End file.
